


you resemble a fool, though you're only a man

by bwayskyler



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Body Worship, M/M, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Vaginal Fingering, i know juno steel irl and he said so, they're both trans, waxing poetic abt ur lover bc he's dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25501888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bwayskyler/pseuds/bwayskyler
Summary: And Juno revels in that, in knowing that it was because of him that Nureyev enjoyed something that he used to dislike. He responds, happily, by moving his lips down Nureyev's jaw, presses them against healing bruises to draw out quiet noises. This is the part that Juno loves, making Nureyev squirm, because it's so rare to see him lose his composure. It drives him crazy knowing that his mouth alone, now moving down Nureyev's chest toward more sensitive spots, can draw such expletives out of the ever-so-professional thief. Makes him feel proud. And definitely makes him wet.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 4
Kudos: 95





	you resemble a fool, though you're only a man

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from "ruler of everything" by tally hall 
> 
> this fic was requested and read through by two of my best friends who are both trans so hope that my descriptions of how these two have sex is alright!

Juno has Nureyev situated in front of him, the two of them sitting on the edge of his bed. The room is hazy, illuminated only by the scintillating aura of the planet they've been flying around for the past few days. The red and purple hues really accentuate the pale of Nureyev's skin, Juno thinks, and then he chuckles to himself, realizing that the lights just so perfectly match the love bites scattered across Nureyev's neck.

Juno also has, in the hand that's not tracing aimless patterns across his lover's body, a bong. Beside him is a lighter, forgotten until a brilliant idea comes to his mind. He leans down, captures Nureyev's already swollen lips in another kiss, heated with intent. He doesn't let up until Nureyev starts pawing at him, trying to drag him closer. Juno pulls away, smiles at the way Nureyev tries to hold him still, and clicks his tongue.

"Nureyev, have you ever shotgunned with anyone?" Juno asks, picking up his lighter and fidgeting with it in his hand. 

"Not for a few years. The last time I did, I was playing a character, so I didn't enjoy it all too much." Nureyev watches as Juno lights the flame a few times, letting it burn a few seconds before it goes out again. He's hesitating, waiting for Nureyev to pick up on what he's implying. "Let me guess, you want to try?"

"I mean, I think it'd be hot, but if you don't want to --"

"Juno, I'll try anything with you. You make everything a better experience."

Juno sits, and he blinks, wanting to fight that statement with every ounce of his being. But that would ruin the mood, he thinks. That would ruin everything. So he shakes it off and lets the compliment burn deep in his skin, in his gut, between his legs. "Right, fine. I want to try shotgunning with you, Nureyev." Juno pushes this out almost sarcastically - the two of them have had extensive talks about being exact with what they want from each other, because otherwise they'll never get anywhere - and Nureyev laughs a bit in response.

"Okay."

With that, Juno shifts and lights back up. He takes in the smoke and Nureyev sits up, cups Juno's cheek in the hand that's not supporting his weight. It's not long before their lips brush against each other, not quite kissing but close enough to feel even more intimate. When Juno exhales the smoke into Nureyev's mouth, he takes it in, and miraculously the both of them manage not to cough. When the rest of the smoke dissipates, they don't pull away - Nureyev instead yanks Juno in again with a wave of want, and Juno has to shakily put down the bong to make sure it doesn't break. They kiss until the fuzzy comfort sets in, and Nureyev pulls away with a short laugh.

"I liked it that time."

And Juno revels in that, in knowing that it was because of him that Nureyev enjoyed something that he used to dislike. He responds, happily, by moving his lips down Nureyev's jaw, presses them against healing bruises to draw out quiet noises. This is the part that Juno loves, making Nureyev squirm, because it's so rare to see him lose his composure. It drives him crazy knowing that his mouth alone, now moving down Nureyev's chest toward more sensitive spots, can draw such expletives out of the ever-so-professional thief. Makes him feel proud. And definitely makes him wet.

"Take these off, would you?" Juno huffs as he kisses the skin above the waistline of Nureyev's underwear, and the man looking down at him sighs.

"So impatient, Juno. How do you ask?" Nureyev tsks, tapping the side of Juno's head with his hand. He slowly works his fingers into his lovers' hair, pulling only slightly when Juno grumbles something along the lines of _fuck asking nicely._ "I won't let you do anything until you ask."

Juno opens his mouth to debate this, but Nureyev shuts him down with another tug on his hair.

"Juno," Nureyev presses, and if the way Nureyev sounded just then didn't make him melt all the way down to his core, Juno would keep fighting against it, but instead he finds himself whining embarrassingly, low in his throat.

"Fine," Juno spits, but there's not a single ounce of venom behind it. "Can I eat you out?"

Nureyev acts like he didn't hear. Cocky son of a bitch. "Hm? What was that, Juno? I didn't hear you."

A groan, from Juno. "I asked if I could eat you out," he repeats. Nureyev blinks at him, expectantly. Juno adds, "please."

And that seems to be the magic word. Nureyev shifts, moves Juno off of him as he wriggles out of his underwear. It's not long at all before he finds himself laid out on Juno's bed, detective settled between his thighs and watching him like he's the most expensive treasure he'll ever touch. And if feeling like a rarity makes Nureyev's heart skip a few extra beats, well... he wouldn't tell anyone.

Juno gets to work pretty quickly - he’s been fantasizing about this, getting high and fucking Nureyev, and honestly, he thinks, Nureyev deserves it. Deserves the high, deserves the attention, deserves the way Juno’s mouth closes around him and _sucks._ He’d been so good today, dancing with other men at the function they had attended in hopes of gathering intel. Juno had been wary, sure, but the looks Nureyev shot him from over the shoulder of whatever fool he was waltzing with made his chest pang with an evil twist of jealousy and lust, made him take a steadying breath and ignore how he had to cross his legs under the table as he made civil conversation.

Juno hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. He lets Nureyev know it, too, because between sliding his tongue between the wet heat he was chasing and sucking bruises into the pale skin adjacent, he’s murmuring things like “you looked so good tonight” and “wish you were dancing with me” and “thought about taking you to the bathroom and fucking you there”. Each of these declarations vibrate through all of Nureyev’s nerves, and he rolls his hips down to meet more of Juno’s mouth. The hand he has in Juno’s hair is curled tight, trying to take as much as he can as he barrels toward his orgasm. He knows he won’t last too much longer: Juno’s mouth is talented in a multitude of ways, and the weed’s only making him that much more susceptible to the curl of his tongue.

“I -” Nureyev starts, breathless, and for maybe the first time ever, he finds himself completely speechless. What is there to say? Any praise that had been resting on his lips was washed away with whines and pants and a chant of _Juno Juno Juno_ . His hips raise off the sheets in a circular pattern, simultaneously grinding down against the stimulation and trying to escape so it all lasts just a little bit longer. “Close, Juno, _please.”_

Juno’s mouth is relentless, with no plans to stop. He’s got Nureyev pulled taut on a velvet rope of pleasure, and every tug draws him closer and closer until he’s soaking Juno’s face with an orgasm strong enough to turn his vision white. It takes a few moments for Nureyev to float back down to himself, and he’s thoroughly sated when he does. He glances down to Juno, who’s been kissing his thighs as they tremble, and smiles when he notes that his lady is just as worked up as he had been a moment ago.

“My turn, now,” Nureyev breathes, and he leans up to rest on his arms. Juno moves, too, up to his knees on the bed. “How would you like to get off, love?”

Juno looks away, as if he has the right to be embarrassed even after giving the best fucking head of his life. He manages, though, “your fingers, can you --”

And Nureyev knows that Juno, even after everything, still gets stubborn about asking for things that benefit him, so he just nods, reaches out an arm to cup Juno’s cheek and brush his thumb against the scar he finds there - it was already there when the two of them met, yet Juno’s never explained why it was there. Nureyev has since filed it away, but the feeling of his thumb against the long-healed skin is intimate in itself. His gentle smile is replaced by a grin just bordering on shit-eating when he opens his mouth to speak next.

“You want me to fuck you on my fingers, Juno? Too desperate to go and get the strap?”

“Just touch me, damnit, don’t tease me,” Juno says, but it’s more of a whine as he shifts, rolling his hips down against the leg he’s now straddling.

“I’d never,” Nureyev chimes in return, clearly teasing. “You’re so wet for me, Juno, you’ve been a very good girl. I think you deserve this.”

He gets a moan in response, and Nureyev moves to switch their positions, laying Juno down against the bed. Juno throws an arm over his eyes, and Nureyev could say something about wanting to see his lady in the throes of passion, but he’s simply too distracted by the slick skin of Juno’s thighs to really care. He runs his fingers down Juno’s body, files away the feeling of Juno’s muscles flexing under his touch. Eventually, he ghosts long digits over Juno’s cock, and the gasp he hears does nothing but encourage him to explore further.

Juno’s built like a piece of art, Nureyev thinks, scars from fights and attacks and long nights and surgeries are scattered across his dark skin, and if he could he’d kiss them and let his lover tell him all of the stories behind them. Admiring his lover is something Nureyev could never get tired of, and that’s what he’s doing now, watching as Juno’s back stretches against the sheets when he slips his fingers further down to sink them into the wetness.

He starts with one finger, and it slips in easily. Nureyev laughs softly at how wet Juno is, though it resonates deep in his own gut that Juno’s this desperate just from going down on him. Juno asks for another and Nureyev happily obliges, this time going in and curling his fingers gently every time he thrusts his hand. It pulls noises out of Juno that Nureyev has to lean up and quiet with his mouth to keep from getting them caught or interrupted. The kiss they share is barely even that, open-mouthed as Juno moans into it and Nureyev speeds up his hand.

“I can - I can take another, c’mon, Nureyev,” Juno growls into his mouth, and clearly if Juno’s still forming actual statements Nureyev’s not doing enough. Well, that’s no good. In response he leans back, and he does initially put in a third finger, but what he also does is bring his other hand to thumb at Juno’s cock, stimulating him even further. This seems to do the trick, because Juno throws his head back and can’t make any noise other than a rhythmic call of Nureyev’s name that he could only describe as music to his ears.

It’s a little ironic that they call this poetry night, because Nureyev truly thinks he could write novels about the way Juno comes around his hand, the way he gushes embarrassingly and cries, the way Juno’s thighs clamp around Nureyev’s wrist as he rolls his hips through each and every wave of pleasure that crashes through him. It’s fucking beautiful, he thinks, and he’s the luckiest man in the galaxy to be able to see Juno Steel _vulnerable_.

By the time Juno starts to function again, he’s already being wiped clean. Nureyev has a warm rag in his hand, and he’s cleaning up the sticky mess left between Juno’s sensitive thighs; Juno shudders, and smiles. “That was fucking incredible. I’ll never get over how good you are at that.”

“It’s a gift, I suppose,” Nureyev tuts, and once Juno is clean he moves to wipe himself down. “A thief must have the most dexterous fingers to be successful.”

“Sometimes I’m glad you’re such a criminal, Nureyev. You’re so talented at what you do.”

“You weren’t saying that back when you arrested me,” Nureyev cocks an eyebrow, teasing. “I stole your heart and you put me in cuffs!”

“You stole my keys. And you _like_ handcuffs, so shut up.”

“I like when _you_ put them on me.”

“Sap.” Juno rests back against the pillows, exhaustion crawling through his body. He motions for Nureyev to join him, and when said thief does, Juno wraps his arms around him.

“Says the one who demands cuddles after sex.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with after sex cuddles. Besides, you smell nice.”

Nureyev blinks, and then he laughs, soft and genuine, pressing a kiss to Juno’s head. “Whatever you say, Juno.”

And together they drift, through their high, through space, and into a deep, comforting sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> this took me... forever. idk why i just took my sweet time with this one
> 
> anyway my tumblr is bwayskyler, my cosplay tiktok and fandom twitter (18+) are both sasharchivist
> 
> comments and kudos are much appreciated :)


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